Be Careful What You Wish For

Epilogue

Leah was sitting behind the wheel of her recently acquired 1987 Volkswagen Golf, humming along to Duran Duran – the cassette had come with the car for free, to her delight. It was getting dark, but she could still enjoy the remnants of Maine's Indian Summer as she looked out her windshield. She was driving down Portland's Riverside Street, in search of the nearest supermarket. There was a motel close by, as well, and although she'd originally planned to scout out the area this evening, she decided to postpone it until tomorrow. It was always better to face murderous sparklepires during the day.

There were a lot of those running around, it turned out.

Didn't matter. She'd manage – so far, she always had.

Nine months had passed ever since she'd left La Push. She'd been on the road ever since. At first, she only drifted around, took an odd job here and there, left again for greener pastures. Three months into that, she'd run into her first sparklepire since the Renesmee snafu – a pompous, arrogant douche who'd set up shop in Riverside, Iowa, and who'd been courting a local, clueless chick.

Naturally, Leah had put the kibosh on that nonsense. The girl hadn't been too happy, but she'd get over it; she'd live, which was the whole point.

That was when she'd decided that she'd undergone enough soul-searching, and that she had found her true calling. Being her own boss was great; being able to contribute to public safety without having to answer to Sam or Jacob was even better. She hadn't exactly burned all her bridges, per se, but she had no intention of going back home any time soon. Her mother and brother missed her, as did Billy, Emily, Charlie, and a few others. They were doing fine without her, though, and she was doing excellent without them. So far, she'd eliminated five leeches who wouldn't listen to reason, and convinced three others that they could either play ball, or get in trouble with the Volturi. If it had been up to her, she'd have killed them, too, but the peace treaty was binding for her, as well, and word spread fast. The Volturi were coming down hard on criminals, and they had local help in the shape of angry wolf-people.

Sparklepires weren't the only monsters around, but they were the only ones Leah had permission to kill; human monsters had to be left to human justice. That was something Leah was perfectly fine with. She wasn't Wardo; she didn't believe that she had the right to decide over the life or death of anything that wasn't an unrepentant supernatural murderer. This was what following the law to the letter meant, anyway – vampire law and werewolf law.

When her phone rang, she switched off her music and took the call, not taking her eyes off the road. "Yeah?"

"Hello, Leah. Am I catching you at a bad time?" Oh, that voice – polite, sonorous, and deceivingly British.

She didn't even try to suppress her good humour. "Hey, Yuppie. No, you didn't catch me at a bad time at all. I'm just on the road."

"Got some specific destination in mind?"

Discreetly, she cleared her throat and nodded, immediately feeling stupid for it, since he couldn't see her. "I do, as a matter of fact. Some people have been disappearing in and around Portland, Maine, under very mysterious circumstances. Rumour is, there's a serial killer on the loose. I'm here to find out whether a vampire's behind it or if it's just some whack-job human."

"I see," he said, and hesitated. "Well, then you're already busy."

"There is such a thing as being too considerate, you know," she told him, not even mad at the smile in her voice. It felt good, talking to him. "Spit it out, son."

"There's still no fooling you, is there?" His own tone was warm and good-humoured, too. That was nice. It was good to know that he was doing okay.

"Nope."

"Well, it's come to our attention that there have indeed been a number of mysterious deaths in and around Portland. What you don't know is that some of the bodies have been recovered almost intact; they were all drained dry of blood."

She sighed audibly and chewed on the inside of her cheek. Her neck, where Seth had bitten her, was itching its usual phantom itch, but both her hands were occupied. "Damn it."

"It doesn't look like regular vampire killing, though. The forensic reports say that there were several puncture wounds in the victims' throats that are incompatible with vampire fangs as we know them. Strange residue of some kind of paralysing venom has been found inside the wounds, as well. No-one knows what to make of that."

Okay, that was weird. She whistled lowly. "Are we talking about a different kind of leech? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" Never mind the fact that he had access to forensic reports. It was better not to delve into that one too deeply.

After another short instance of hesitation, he said, "Honestly, we don't know. It could literally be anything. What we do know is that whoever is doing the killing, there's a method to it. It makes sense to assume that the killer is supernatural. Maybe there are several of them. We don't know anything for sure, though."

Despite herself, she had to laugh. "And you want me to investigate."

"Actually," he replied, amused, "I wanted to ask you whether you'd like to join me in my own investigation."

She almost dropped the phone in surprise. "You're in Portland?"

"I arrived this morning."

"Well, in that case, I'll see you in, hm...an hour? Text me the address of wherever it is you're staying. I just need to grab a sandwich or something."

"Will do." After a few seconds of silence, he added, "I'll see you soon."

"Damn right, you will." She disconnected the call and dropped the phone on the passenger seat. Looking ahead into the growing darkness, she couldn't help but grin broadly.

This might not be the life she had wished for before this whole werewolf business started, but by God, it was a good life. It was was a big, beautiful world, and Leah was done feeling sorry for herself, was done making everything more difficult than it needed to be. There might be monsters around every corner, but for every one of those, there was a decent person to make up for it. The only way to stay afloat was to let oneself be carried by the stream, to just tackle life without wanting to beat it into a desirable shape. This was her life, and she was determined to make it a happy one. Everything else made no sense and was a waste of energy. She pressed the play button on her radio again, and the cassette whirred to life. The car was filled with music. She turned up the volume and shouted along.